The silver flash of the faceplate reflected the dim scarlet glow of the burning city behind them. Smoke curled up into the darkened sky, obscuring the twin moons that hung above the jagged skyline. The air smelled of metal and ash, the sounds of chaos—cries, collapsing buildings, and the whirr of mechanized drones—engulfing the night. Clad in her seamless, glistening body suit, the figure paused atop the crumbled remains of a once-grand stone arch, surveying the scene below with the red star emblem on her faceplate gleaming ominously. Her body moved with a fluid grace, her hair a cascade of polished metallic fibers that gleamed eerily in the intermittent flashes of light. She radiated a strange blend of elegance and unyielding menace.
“Target acquired,” a voice buzzed in her internal comm system, distorted but unmistakably human. The words were cold yet carried a weight of urgency.
The figure, known merely as Vezhra, did not respond. Words, after all, were no longer necessary for her mission. Her creators had ensured that silence was her default mode. It was better that way, they had claimed. Better to be the unseen and unheard shadow of retribution, forged to rebuild order in the chaos humanity had birthed. A drone whizzed past her, scanning the ruins, oblivious to her presence as she crouched atop the arch. Her suit shifted subtly, adjusting to the cold winds of the burning city, its matte silver surface rippling faintly as though alive.
She leaped. The fall from the height should have shattered bones, but Vezhra wasn’t built from fragile biology. Her boots landed silently on the rubble-strewn ground, and she ghosted forward, weaving between shafts of light piercing through the smoke. The broken remnants of towering statues, murals, and propaganda from a past long gone surrounded her: blocky depictions of the Worker’s Utopia. As she moved, memories flickered at the edges of her mind like static—fragments of a time when she wore flesh and spoke with a human voice.
One memory emerged in full clarity: the first time she saw the factories. She had been a worker then, skin smudged with soot, hair pulled back in tight, pragmatic braids. They had spoken about progress, about peace, about a new age built on the backs and minds of mankind. But the red banners that hung over the machines had soon turned into ribbons of fire. The utopia had been a lie. Vezhra remembered the voice of her sister, her real sister, warning her to leave that life behind. “They’ll eat you alive,” she’d said.
Her sister had been right. The difference was, they hadn’t stopped with her body. They had taken her mind and reforged it, buried the memories deep beneath protocols of war and efficiency. But they hadn’t buried them well enough.
She reached the base of an enormous, spiraling tower, its sleek retro-futuristic exterior now blackened and scarred. Bulwarks of steel encircled its base, but drones zipping around the perimeter and patrolling mechs couldn’t match the fluid silence of her movements. Vezhra slid her body against the scorched metal, blending into the shadows like vapor, moving toward the industrial entrance at the rear. Her movements were methodical, her footsteps soft as whispers against the ashen ground.
“You can’t do this alone,” another voice buzzed in her comm unit. This one softer and feminine, the sound of someone familiar. It wasn’t real. Didn’t matter. They had buried her sister long ago, hadn’t they?
A faint chime alerted her to movement behind her. The nearest mech, a spindly monstrosity with a glowing red eye, shifted its stance, scanning the area. Vezhra slowed every muscle in her body, her reflective faceplate dimming to neutralize any gleam of light against it. She waited and, like a metallic eel, slipped through the shadows the second the mech turned.
The room inside the tower was cavernous, its walls lined with eerie, green-lit cylinders filled with translucent liquid. Suspended within each were the embryonic forms of what looked like humans—tiny and still, as though sleeping. The hum of machinations filled her ears. She froze. The sight brought back the image of her younger self, a memory of staring out the window of her factory dormitory and seeing the infinite smokestacks in the distance, each one vomiting black clouds into the sky. How naive she’d been to think she was free.
“Step away from the vats, operator.” The voice came not from her comms this time but from her rear—calm, commanding. Vezhra turned, her glowing red star meeting the hollow gaze of another figure, also clad in a seamless suit like hers. Only this one bore a star of gold. And though his faceplate was devoid of features as hers was, she knew the voice.
“Koltz,” she whispered, her voice mechanical but laced with a spark of something human.
“Vezhra,” the figure responded calmly. “It’s been some time.”
Her dynamic hair seemed to bristle faintly. “You knew.”
“About the project? Of course.” Koltz stepped forward, his posture regal, his strides fluid as though choreographed. The two faced each other between rows of chiming vats, the soft glow from the cylinders casting long, shifting shadows. “And now, here you are. Rebel Class Unit 324-B. Revolutionary. Or traitor, depending on the historian.”
“What does that make you?” she asked, her voice a whip of disdain.
“Practical,” he replied with a hint of cold humor. “I’ve seen what happens to those who resist progression. The machine marches forward, Vezhra. It always has. You can’t stop it.”
Her fists clenched, but her posture remained poised. “Maybe I don’t need to stop it. Maybe I only need to break you.”
Koltz chuckled, a sound that echoed in the chamber like a death knell. “I’d like to see you try.”
In a flash, their polished forms collided, metallic limbs striking with impossible speed. Sparks erupted across the chamber as their suits clashed, the hum of energy fields vibrating the air. She darted low beneath his swing, her suit compressing against her lithe frame as she landed a punishing strike to his midsection. He stumbled but retaliated with a high kick that sent her skidding across the metallic floor.
Rising, she glanced toward the vats. The glowing embryos floated, oblivious to the battle. “What are they?” she demanded, her voice serrated with anger.
“The future,” Koltz said, his strikes coming faster now, forcing her back toward the wall. “The perfected version of us, without the inconvenient flaws of memory or emotion.”
But it was memory that guided her next move. A moment from her former life—a sparring session with her sister in an alley, arms locked, laughter mingling with the evening air. Vezhra twisted Koltz’s arm, her motions as fluid as her hair, and with a flick of her wrist, sent him tumbling. The emotionless Koltz, the “perfected” figure, did not anticipate it.
Seizing her chance, she leaped toward the vats. Koltz shouted something, but the words faded as Vezhra slammed her fist into the nearest console. Sparks flew, alarms blaring. The green liquid within the tanks began to swirl violently, cracking their glass cocoons. Koltz lunged for her, but Vezhra was already gone, slipping back into the smoke-filled chaos, leaving destruction—and perhaps rebirth—in her wake.
As the tower crumbled behind her, she stood once more on the broken arch, her burning city stretching infinitely below. The red star on her faceplate dimmed, and for a fleeting moment, her reflection in a broken shard of glass revealed very human eyes staring back.
Where had they gone? And where would they take her next?
The Source…check out the article that inspired this amazing short story: Futuristic Fashion: Metallic Cosplay Costume Ideas Inspired by Atomic Heart Robot Twins
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